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Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Let the Healing Begin

On Being Told I Don’t SpeakLike a Black Person

ALLISON JOSEPH [B. 1967]

Emphasize the “h,” you hignorant ass,was what my mother was toldwhen colonial-minded teachersslapped her open palm with a rulerin that Jamaican school room.trained in England, they triedto force their pupils to speaklike Eliza Doolittle afterher transformation, fancying themselvesBritish as Henry Higgins,despite dark, sun-ripened skin.Mother never lost her accent,though, the music of her voicecharming everyone, an infectious liltI can imitate, not duplicate.No one in the States told herto eliminate the accent,my high school friends adoringthe way her voice would liftwhen she called me to the phone.A-ll-i-son, it’s friend Cathy.Why don’t you sound like her?they’d ask. I didn’t soundlike anyone or anything,no grating New York nasality,no fastidious British mannerismslike the ones my father affectedwhen he wanted to sell someonesomething. And I didn’t soundlike a Black American,college acquaintances observed,sure they knew what a black personwas supposed to sound like.Was I supposed to sound lazy,dropping syllables here, there,not finishing words butslurring the final letter so thateach sentence joined the next,sliding past the listener?Were certain words off limits,too erudite, too scholarlyfor someone with a natural tan?I asked what they meant,and they stuttered, blushed,said you know, Black English,applying what they’d learnedfrom that semester’s text.Does everyone in your familyspeak alike?, I’d questionand they’d say don’t take this thewrong way, nothing personal.

Now I realize there’s nothingmore personal than speech,that I don’t have to defendhow I speak, how any person,black, white, chooses to speak.Let us speak. Let us talkwith the sounds of our mothersand fathers still reverberatingin our minds, wherever our mothersor fathers come from:Arkansas, Belize, Alabama,Brazil, Aruba, Arizona.Let us simply speakto one another,listen and prize the inflections,differences, never assuminghow any person will sounduntil her mouth opens,until his mouth opens,greetings familiarin any language.

About Me

Like Anne Sexton, the business of words often keeps me awake. My favorite tulip? Queen of the Night. My books include The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception & Reckless Lovely. I also wrote a book of 366 writing prompts, one for every day of the year, with Kelli Russell Agodon: The Daily Poet. I also serve as poetry editor at Crab Creek Review. New work appears in Poetry, The Cincinnati Review, Orion, Southern Indiana Review, & Crab Orchard Review, among others.